


Wait For It

by orphan_account



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Endgame Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Lesbian Sex, Masturbation, One Shot, Romance, Smut, SwanQueen Fanfiction Facebook Group (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-10 23:50:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This is a one-shot. Regina and Emma have been dating for a few months now; one of them is ready to be more intimate and the other is not. Is the reason worth the wait?





	Wait For It

**Author's Note:**

> First things first: Huge shout out and thank you to "starchasm." I may very well sing your praises for a while. I know it seems like a small thing, but I was so down about losing my work. The link that gave me this story back really made my day. :-*
> 
> I've said this before, but it bears repeating: Still calling my brain the SmutMaster3000. I swear it just happens, but there's some plot in there too. 
> 
> I don't own the characters and all mistakes are my own. Again, kudo and review the heck out this thing and tell me what you think.

The amber liquid burned its way down her slender throat and Emma sighed in appreciation as it warmed her belly. She raised her hand to the bartender, alerting him that the unthinkable had happened—her glass was empty. Her green eyes were fixated on the bottom of the shot glass as she let the affects of the potent brew massage her scalp and work its way down her back to settle at the base of her spine. The warmth cradled her and eased the tense muscles of her usually rigid form. She sighed the sigh of a drunken and defeated woman as she forced herself to try and listen to her drinking companion. The young woman's voice floated to her through a warped haze caused by her fourth shot.

"I'm telling you," Ruby yelled, in order to combat the noise in the bar. "She's crazy. All the sexy ones are." The brunette patted her friend on the back. Had there ever been a sight more pitiful than a sexually frustrated Emma Swan?

Emma groaned in agitation and let her head hit the counter of the bar. "I just don't _get_ it--"

"Obviously," Ruby quipped with a mocking grin.

Emma lifted her head and scowled at her friend. Only a true sadist would mock a woman in Emma's position. Only some sick vamp from the pit of hell could find humor in this situation.

"Shut up, Ruby," the deputy slurred.

Aesop brought the duo yet another round and the blonde was grateful for the elixir's seemingly contradictory burning and numbing powers. Perhaps if she drank enough, she wouldn't have to think about her date with Regina. If she imbibed to the brink of unconsciousness she could erase how childishly she'd behaved when yet another of their dates ended without Emma being invited in.

"I'm just saying, Em. The hot ones--the _really_ hot ones--they're usually bat shit because they know they can get away with murder." The waitress spewed her bar side wisdom as if the words were gifted from the mountain top and the official dogma of the dating world.

"She's not crazy," Emma shouted over the music.

"Emma, sweetie. This is Regina Mills we're talking about. I'm telling you, she bays at the moon and walks backwards; but nobody's gonna say a damn thing . . . because she's hot. That's why she gets away with so much," the brunette finished with a shrug.

"Ugh, whatever, Ruby. She doesn't get away with anything with me. I call her on all her crap," the inebriated blonde declared triumphantly before inhaling another shot.

"Ha! Lies! Maybe when you first got here, but the moment—the _moment_—the mayor started batting her eyes at you, you turned into a school boy."

"No I didn't," she called out as she laughed at the accusation.

"Emma! All Regina has to do is _look_ at you and you're done," the brunette leaned back swept her hand toward Emma's slumping form as if her presence in the bar only served to prove her point.

"Look at you," Ruby continued, truly enjoying her friend's miserable state. "You've been dating Regina for months now and she still won't give it up."

"Hey, don't say it like that," Emma whined.

"What," Ruby huffed. "It's true. You're always with each other. She wines and dines you to death and you still walk away with blue balls."

"Ruby!"

"What," the waitress shrugged, feigning ignorance. "I'm just saying, I think if I was dating someone that looked like Regina for that long and hadn't seen them in their underwear yet, I'd drive to their house in my “sleep”; dry hump their leg in the middle of the night; and blame it on Ambien."

The two women eyed one another before their simultaneous laughter blended with the surrounding chatter and the melodies emanating from the bar’s speakers. They drank until both women began to see two of each other. They moved in slow motion and held on to one another as they ambled toward the exit of the bar. The still air of the summer night did little to snap the good friends from their drunken jubilee. If anything, the heat of the night air licked their skins and sealed in the delicious toxins. They tripped over themselves as they laughed at each other's incoherent jokes. The streets of Storybrooke were much more sober and much less lively than the swaying pair as they painted the quiet town with their asymmetrical steps. Ruby hugged her friend once they'd made it deeper into town and to the door of her apartment behind Granny's. After two failed attempts, Ruby finally steadied her hand enough to unlock the door.

"H-have fun with your cue balls," she hiccupped.

"Blue," Emma corrected as if she were the star pupil who always had the right answer.

"What did I say?"

"Cue," Emma slurred.

"Hey! Maybe that's what we can start calling it when girls get it!"

Emma's exaggerated eye roll caused the area around her to spin. She steadied herself and waited for the brunette to get inside before walking away. On any other day, Emma would have sworn that there was nothing remarkable about the town's main road. Its linear path could guide the most inept of a traveler to their destination as long as the sojourner had the wherewithal to put one foot in front of the other. Yet, the blonde couldn't master the new turns and winding curves. With each step the dips in the road became more complicated until Emma had no choice but to stop and wait for the blackened tar to make up its mind. To any civic minded onlooker, it appeared that Emma Swan was fighting with a straight road and engaged in a stand off until the midnight path bent to her will.

The blonde inhaled deeply and resumed her journey until her vision returned the street back to its original and unimpressive contours. She turned off the main road and hummed as she pulled her key from her pocket. She walked until the buildings began to morph into rows of trees. The evergreen needles watched as she walked their expansive gauntlet in the middle of the residential road. Emma's grip tightened on her key as she made her way up the sidewalk and to the front door.

She sighed tiredly as she thought of the bed upstairs. Her pillows were inviting her to rest her weary head and let the comfort of a drunken sleep wash away the thoughts of that scintillating woman on Mifflin Street. Perhaps tonight would be the night Regina wouldn't come to her in her dreams. Maybe the alcohol count in her blood stream had poisoned her just enough to keep her last waking thought from being about Regina . . . and whether or not the mayor slept in a negligee or a silk pajama set. With any luck, her slumber would be dull and uneventful. If there was any deity at all that cared for Emma as a human being, it would grant her a full night's sleep and not a fractured movie reel of Regina Mills lying on a bed and inviting Emma Swan between her open legs.

Emma placed her key in the lock and groaned when it refused to turn. She shook the doorknob and nearly screamed when it failed to give way to her demands. After trying again, the impatient blonde stuffed the useless key back into her pocket and knocked on the door.

"Mary Margaret," she yelled before hitting the door again. "Mary Margaret!"

She waited, but still no answer. The exhausted blonde leaned against the door, lamenting the fact that her buzz was being wasted by standing in front of a closed door. She banged her head slightly against the cool wood, willing it to open and silently begging her brunette friend to open the damn door. She was ready to strip down to her tank and underwear; she was prepared to sleep on top of the covers and kick away all the clothes she’d neglected to fold and put away.

She was decidedly _not_ prepared for the abrupt opening of the front door. The swift and unexpected motion caused her to fall into the loft face first. Even from her peripheral, the stark white walls and open space caught her attention. She couldn’t quite understand it, but something was out of place. Something was missing.

Then it hit her. “Where’s all the furniture,” she asked as she turned and plopped onto her back.

There was no reply.

Emma scanned the room with tired eyes and yet she still couldn’t piece it together . . . until the voice came.

“Emma? Are you alright?”

The blonde froze. Her entire body went rigid as that voice wrapped itself around the dumb blonde prostrate on the floor. She knew that voice; it was gravel and liquid swirled together—and when the two emerged, they created a tenor that dripped with smoke and sex that made the blonde’s stomach tighten.

She’d had many dreams like this. Dreams of hearing that voice call out to her in ecstasy; dreams of that voice begging Emma to do as she pleased. In her dreams, she would ease the mayor onto a rug in front of a fireplace and let the heat of the flames lick at their skin as Emma licked Regina. The heat from the ambers would warm their bodies, but Emma's hands and mouth on the mayor would ignite a fuse that burned inwardly until there was nothing left. In her dreams, Emma would kneel before the wonder of Regina and suck at her nectar until the blonde’s name became a fevered incantation in the height of Regina’s splendor.

It all made sense, she had to be dreaming.

“Emma.” A less patient version of the voice filled the room. “What are you doing here?”

This time, the blonde opened her eyes—really opened them—and took in her surroundings. In that moment, lying on the floor of the mayor’s foyer and blinking up at a slightly irritated Regina Mills, Emma vowed to never take another drink again.

She gaped at the vision standing over her. How the hell had she gotten here?

“I thought this was my apartment,” she offered slowly.

Regina helped her off the floor and smiled at the blonde as if Emma were the worst liar in the world. “Really, dear,” she asked with an arched brow. “And the fact that you had to walk in the _opposite_ direction from your downtown loft to make it to my house, never gave you pause?”

“It was an honest mistake, Regina,” Emma replied, swaying a bit as she eyed Regina. “I might be a little drunk,” she admitted with a helpless grin.

“And your subconscious led you here,” Regina asked in a low tone.

“Yep.” The blonde smiled cockily before stepping into Regina’s personal space. “I was thinking of going home and getting into bed . . .” Emma pulled Regina into her arms. “ . . . and ended up here,” she whispered against the mayor’s lips. The blonde let her hands roam the mayor’s back and sighed at the feel of the silk robe beneath her fingers.

“You smell like a brewery, Ms. Swan,” the mayor teased.

Emma’s hands slid to the small of Regina’s back as the blonde pulled her in even closer. She wedged her thigh between the mayor’s warm legs and nearly wept from the warmth of being encased between those inviting limbs. The deputy slipped her hands under the mayor’s robe and beneath the silk nightgown. The moment the mayor’s pants became moans, Emma captured the brunette’s full lips with her own and drank in the sweet taste. They stood there, locked together and rocking against each other’s bodies. They kissed slowly and deeply, taking turns drawing the other’s tongue into their mouths.

Emma kicked the door closed and backed Regina further into the house. The desire crackled between them and made its presence known with the flare of an obnoxious visitor that refused to be ignored.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” the blonde confessed. She lifted her leg, hoping Regina would take the hint and lower herself onto Emma’s muscled thigh. Emma needed to feel the brunette against her. She needed to know that Regina was just as desperate and wanton as she was. She wanted to feel the heat and the juices from Regina’s body and walk away with the evidence of that passion staining her jeans.

Yet, the instant she pressed her leg higher between the mayor’s legs and toward the source of her desire—she knew the spell had been broken. There was a fine line and delicate balance at play that Emma still didn’t quite understand. The moment Regina stiffened and stepped away from her, she knew she’d gone too far.

“We have to stop,” Regina replied shakily. She ran a trembling hand through her hair and met Emma’s gaze with pleading eyes. Those chocolate pools bore into Emma, silently begging her to understand.

The blonde stood dumbfounded at the image before her. Regina Mills wanted her. She could see it. She could practically taste it. She could _feel _it. She could feel the radiation of the mayor’s want seeping into the room whenever the two women were together. Even now, with her wide eyes and weak protests, Emma saw how the mayor looked at her. Regina had the look of a woman who was starving and, if given half the chance, she would consume Emma and leave nothing but boots and a t-shirt in her wake.

Emma advanced toward Regina. “What is it, Regina,” the drunken woman whined.

“We can’t do this,” Regina replied calmly, appearing to have regained her composure.

Emma sighed and dropped her hands to her side in defeat. Was this a game to Regina? Emma knew that Regina enjoyed controlling people and pushing them to their limits. Was that the goal behind all these months of dinners and heavy petting—to control Emma and see how far the deputy could be pushed? Maybe Ruby was right. Perhaps Regina was a merciless tease and utterly certifiable.

The liquid courageous coursing through her veins convinced her that she should share her insight with the woman who was the source of all her turmoil. And like a fool she listened.

“Ruby was right. You are crazy.”

“_What _did you just say,” the brunette asked through narrowed eyes.

“Oh come on, Regina. Don’t deny it. You like this. Me pining after you like some horny teenager. I _dream _about you, for heaven’s sake, and you probably sit here at night and laugh yourself to sleep.”

“If you truly believe that, Emma,” the mayor challenged with a raised brow, “then you should leave.”

The two women stood face to face—neither bowing down and neither looking away. They were at an impasse and each knew that the next words spoken could either forge them closer together or spurn them further apart. Both gazed at each other, their inner beings reaching out in a way that their bodies never could. It would have been so simple to call it quits. It would have been the sane thing to do. Emma could have ended her misery and Regina could hold on to whatever mysterious motivations hindered her from allowing Emma into her bed. That would have been the logical next step. But as Emma looked into those eyes and watched those enticing pouty lips, she knew she’d spend the rest of her life trailing Regina’s shadow if there was the slightest of a chance that Regina would have her.

“I’m sorry,” Emma sighed. “I didn’t mean that,” she added quickly. “I just don’t get it.”

Regina’s shoulders visibly relaxed and Emma was grateful that her apology was received.

“No, I suppose you don’t, do you, dear,” the mayor said thoughtfully before stretching out her arm and taking Emma’s hand in hers. “Come with me, Emma.”

Emma, grateful that she wasn’t being led to the front door, allowed herself to be pulled and guided by Regina without question.

“Have a seat, Emma.” Regina gestured toward the couch. “I would offer you a drink, but I think you’ve met your quota for the night,” the mayor quipped while offering a smile.

“I-I’m sorry, ‘Gina,” the blonde slurred slightly before falling back on the plush cushions. She stretched her full form along the length of the sofa and watched as Regina poured herself a drink. Emma’s eyes trailed the outline of the short silk robe. She watched as the clingy fabric molded itself to the goddess’s body and tried her best not to envy the dark green material. If only she could hold Regina that tightly and not be pushed away.

The mayor laughed at the sight of her inebriated house guest planked along the cushions of her furniture. “Comfortable,” she asked teasingly.

“Mm. I could get used to this,” Emma smiled up at the brunette as though she were in a daze.

Regina licked her lips at the sight of the blonde resting her head against the arm of the couch. She sauntered closer to Emma and blushed when she caught the blonde staring hungrily at her hips and then to the covered sacred entrance between her thighs. She could feel those eyes undressing her and stroking her. Those enticing whirlpools licked at her skin as she stood over the blonde. A chill slithered down her spine only to be chased by a crippling heat that brought her to her knees and face to face with the most open and beautiful face the mayor had ever seen. Emma had waited long enough, she deserved an explanation.

Regina, still on her knees between the coffee table and the couch, stroked Emma’s hair and the deputy leaned into the touch.

“I’m going to tell you something, Emma. But I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?”

The blonde hummed as her eyes closed.

“Good,” the mayor purred. “You are all I think about. I have never desired someone as strongly as I desire you.” The mayor’s breathy tone pulled the blonde from her trance. Green eyes met chocolate as Emma silently begged for the brunette to continue.

“You make it so hard to get through a day, Emma. You have no idea how often I have thought of taking you when you’re in my office. I can’t focus on my work, dear, because I can’t stop wondering what you sound like in the middle of an orgasm. It really is rather unhealthy.”

The husky tone of the mayor’s voice filled Emma’s senses. She was powerless to stop the rush of heat that settled in her womb and attempted to force its way lower. The throbbing spread within her walls and she clenched her thighs to try and quiet the storm. The brunette’s voice poured into her veins and ate at her bones until she was nothing but a formless mass hanging on every word from those dangerous lips.

“Regina . . .”

“Shhh.” The mayor pressed her finger against Emma’s warms lips. “I can’t tell you how often I’ve been tempted to touch myself—imaging that it’s you. Imaging that you’re pushing those fingers inside of me until I can’t remember what day it is.”

Regina removed her finger from Emma’s lips and stroked the blonde’s face. She watched the deputy’s eyes widen at the confession and smiled. The blonde did her best to kill the tremble in her throat before she spoke. “A-and did you . . . t-touch yourself?”

“No,” Regina whispered, leaning in against Emma’s ear.

Emma gulped. “W-why, why not?”

The mayor pulled back and stared deeply into the peridot pools that could trap even the most heartless of a human being. It was truly unfair how lost Regina became just from looking at the woman lying before her.

“Because,” she spoke earnestly, as if the answer should have been apparent. “It has to be you, Emma.”

The confused younger woman attempted to sit up, but Regina’s gentle hand on her chest pushed her back down on the couch. “I’ve been _trying_—”

Regina’s lips silenced Emma’s and demanded entrance. Never one to deny the intoxicating woman, Emma’s lips parted and Regina’s tongue traced the inside of her mouth. The affects of the alcohol ceded authority to the power that was Regina. The blonde’s senses were ensnared by a force that had little to do with wines and spirits. Instead, the influence of the liquor was replaced with the achingly hypnotizing tonic of the one and only Regina. The earthy blend of those kisses assaulted her brain and dared her to resist.

The mayor pulled Emma’s shirt free from her jeans and kissed the woman’s taunt abdomen. Emma gasped and tensed at the feel of the scorching lips pressed against her navel.

“R-Regina,” she stuttered.

“Shhh,” the brunette offered by way of reply. “I’m going to tell you something and I need you to listen.”

The mayor unbuttoned Emma’s jeans and the blonde’s hands gripped the arm rest behind her head. What the hell was going on? Months—_months_—of nothing and now this?

“Can you do that, Emma?” The brunette’s sultry tone wormed its way into her psyche and Emma bit back a moan. She nodded jerkily, indicating to the mayor that she could continue with . . . whatever the hell was happening between them.

Regina unzipped the tight jeans and tugged at them until Emma’s legs were trapped at the calves. The minx’s dark eyes clouded with uninhibited lust as she gazed openly at the target that was hidden behind Emma’s underwear.

“You see, Emma. I think when you give yourself to someone, it should mean something. You are allowing that person to pierce your most intimate veil. They get to see the most vulnerable side of you that the rest of the world will never see.”

Regina kissed Emma’s panty covered lips and the blonde nearly went blind. “Give me your hand, Emma.”

The desperate need etched in the blonde’s face faltered at the request.

“Your hand. Give me your hand, Emma.”

The blonde released her death grip on the couch placed her trembling hand into Regina’s. “The fact that you want to give yourself to me,” she said before taking the hand and easing it between Emma’s own legs, “and knowing how desperately you want me . . .” The brunette placed her hand on top of Emma’s and guided both their hands inside the cotton underwear. Regina pushed Emma’s fingers until she felt the saturated folds part and coat both their fingers with Emma’s arousal. Even then, she was careful not to let her fingers be the ones to slip inside of the quivering blonde. “. . . makes me want to do things to you, Emma, that I have not thought of in years.”

The young woman was falling. She was being cast down from the clouds and landing into the bosom of a lover whom her body had not yet known. Her descent would not be graceful. Regina, the artful master that she was, gripped Emma’s wrist and set the pace for the blonde to stroke herself deeply and slowly. No, Emma could find no grace or elegance in the raw carnality that raked across her soul. Her plummet would leave a crater in the middle of Regina’s den; and all who passed 108 Mifflin Street would bear witness of the exquisite aftermath of Emma Swan thrusting into herself while looking into the mayor’s eyes and crying out her name. They would see the dust settle and hear the walls rattle as the house once again returned to its original placid glory. They would know the terrains the deputy had traversed when the blonde emerged from the mansion as if floating on a cloud and lost in the wilderness. Emma would be powerless to hide it, just as she was powerless to hide from the climax that worked its tendrils through her scalp and slithered around her torso. It sought her out and took its time walking through her body.

“Regina,” she called out with a long and loud moan. “What are you . . .doing to . . .” Her inquiry yielded to another cry as her body drank in her own fingers. Many a night she’d indulged in the art of self gratification while thinking about this very woman. Yet, having the woman there—and guiding her hand—opened dimensions of Emma’s body that she never knew existed. The release swept through the canvas of her body and the rolling tremors shook her to her very foundation. The brunette’s hold tightened on the straining wrist, encouraging Emma to sink her fingers deeper into her own body. The waves crashed behind her eyelids and traveled downstream until a second dam burst from between her thighs. Her legs slammed shut, trapping both their hands as her frantic cries spilled over into the quiet room and she screamed the evidence of her climax into the sex driven atmosphere.

“I don’t think I’ve been so taken with someone as I am with you. It almost scares me, Emma,” Regina spoke softly, never taking her eyes from the heaving form before her.

“I ache, thinking about your mouth and what it would be like. I wonder if your public displays of aggression translate into the bedroom. Would you be gentle? Are you a savage, dear? I think I would enjoy either, _Emma._”

Emma had no voice. The witch had stolen her voice and left her with only the remnants of shaky moans that escaped her parted lips.

Regina pulled Emma’s fingers from her swollen center and locked eyes with the blonde as she slowly brought the blonde’s wet fingers to her mouth. The brunette parted her lips and took in each finger, sucking them one at a time until the coated liquid was no more. The mayor licked her lips in appreciation before pulling Emma’s pants back up to her waist. For a moment she hesitated, her actions slow and deliberate as she waited to make sure she had Emma’s full attention. Once the blonde regained her senses, Regina eased her left hand under her own nightgown.

Time stood still.

Time no longer existed.

There was only Emma and Regina . . . and that olive hand that had now disappeared into Regina’s satin panties. Emma noted how Regina’s eyes glazed and darkened before the brunette snapped them shut and expelled a shaky moan. Without being told, Emma knew that Regina Mills was on her knees with her fingers buried in the one hiding place Emma would sell her soul to inhabit.

“It’s been so long, Emma.” Regina winced slightly, gasping at the feel of her own hand. “This is the first time _any _hand has touched me in ages. I’ve never touched myself for anyone,” the mayor gasped again, “only you. Only now.” Emma raised her boneless body in order to get a better view of Regina’s ministrations. “One finger,” she pushed higher into herself, “is almost uncomfortable.”

The brunette hissed as she extracted her finger and Emma struggled not to crawl to the floor and replace that hand. Just the mere thought that Regina could only endure the prodding of a single digit only served to stoke the aggressive fire that was building within the deputy. Emma fought the maddening urge to push Regina into the carpet and claim the prize that was waiting for her—consequences be damned.

How long had it been for Regina? It never occurred to Emma that Regina was anything other than a sex demon that sucked the souls of all her bedmates. The awestruck young woman cursed herself for her impatience and assumptions. All that mattered now was that Regina was there, offering a part of herself to Emma, and the blonde was both humbled and eager to receive even the tiniest sample of her gift.

She stared back and forth between the mayor’s flushed face and the finger that was layered with the cream her mouth craved. Regina, observing the longing and hungry stare, brought her hand to Emma’s mouth. The blonde had dreamt of this—tasting Regina. Her thoughts were consumed with the various ways in which she could feast from the brunette and drink from the older woman until she had nothing left to give. Of all the scenarios she had imagined, never once did it occur to her that she would lick the essence of Regina from Regina’s own hands. And yet, she pulled that waiting finger into her mouth as though she would never have the opportunity again. Regina watched the scene with unmasked desire as the blonde cleaned her finger and leaned back into the sofa. She reached for Regina and pulled the slender woman on top of her. The brunette allowed the new position and straddled the blonde. She sat up and leaned back against her legs in order to stare down at the younger woman.

“I don’t take intimacy lightly, Emma. I want our first time to be special and perfect. I want to spend the night memorizing your body and everything that gives you pleasure, but I’m not ready yet. It has been such a long time since I’ve gotten this close to anyone.” The brunette began to move her hips slowly, enjoying the feel of Emma’s rough unbuttoned jeans between her legs. Emma hands settled on Regina’s hips and they rocked together slowly as the brunette continued to explain herself.

“Please don’t ever doubt that I want you; but the last time I felt this strongly for someone, it ended badly.” Regina’s hands slid up to cup Emma’s breasts through her shirt as she spoke of a distant memory. “I can’t let that happen with you, Emma.”

Emma’s grip tightened on Regina’s hips as the blonde nodded her understanding with a gaped mouth and unfocused eyes.

“It won’t Regina,” Emma finally spoke.

Regina smiled down at her before stretching herself against the length of the blonde’s strong form and settling her full weight on the woman beneath her. Regina’s heart beat pressed into Emma’s and the brunette sucked lightly at the blonde’s neck.

“Can you do this for me, Emma,” the brunette asked before returning to graze her teeth against Emma’s tender flesh. “Can you wait for me?” Regina ground her thinly covered pelvis against the material of Emma’s pants. Emma shifted her hands to the mayor’s back side to seal them together.

The friction between them created a barrier that hid them from the elements. They breathed each other in and Emma groaned at her pitiful state.

The blonde knew it wasn’t fair. Regina was asking too much. The onyx haired vixen was writhing on top of her and yet asking her to wait until she was ready. She was sucking and nipping at the sensitive veins in her neck and yet singing her hesitation. But Emma knew, she knew the minute the brunette pinned her with those eyes and trapped her with those lips, she would do anything the brunette asked. After tonight, she would suffer her cue balls in silence and wait for the right time. It would be torture—kissing the woman, hugging her, the extreme groping—but she could do it.

With a tone that suggested to both women that the blonde couldn’t believe what she was about to say, Emma cleared her throat and gave Regina her decision. “Y-yeah.” Regina bit into her neck again. Emma hissed and cleared her throat. This was going to be hell. “I-I can wait, Regina.”

Regina sat up and stared down into those sea green eyes. Their kiss lasted until neither could tell whose breathing had morphed into moans of reignited need.

“Excellent, dear,” she said against the younger woman’s lips. “Now,” she said, after leaning forward for a final quick kiss. “I trust you can let yourself out.”

Emma blinked at the words, assuming she’d heard incorrectly. “What?”

Regina raised herself on her arms and looked down at the blonde as though her statement made all the sense in the world. “It’s nearly two in the morning, Emma.” Gone was the husky and smoky tone that had lured Emma to her death. In its place was the one voice Emma hadn’t expected to hear—the voice of Madam Mayor.

Regina stood to her feet and Emma instantly missed the weight and the heat of the woman who would soon be her lover.

“I said, I trust you can let yourself out,” Regina repeated as she tightened her robe and headed toward the stairs. Emma watched the mayor’s hips as she swayed up the few steps. The brunette turned at smiled triumphantly at the dazed woman, leaving her to wonder if the last hour had all been a figment of her drunken imagination. “Get home safe, Ms. Swan.” The brunette nodded toward Emma before continuing her path up the stairs. It wasn’t until Emma heard the click of the bedroom door that she realized Regina was serious. The woman had actually switched gears that quickly and literally left Emma with her pants undone.

Emma sighed and shook her head before she pushed herself up off the couch. As she made her way out of the mansion and closed the door behind her, she couldn’t help but remember the words of a young friend with an old wise soul.

“Ruby called it,” she muttered into the night air. “Bat shit crazy.”

Emma walked back down the street and headed in the direction of her home—her real home—and laughed at her wretched circumstances. Regina was maddening, and complex, and crazy as all hell . . .

But damn it all, Emma would wait.


End file.
